Of Light Rain and Freezing Wind
by DRUMLINEpaco
Summary: When pit players' hands are too cold to even move...and I KNOW that yall have heard of the taco tuba...
1. Missed Notes and Dirty Runs

Of Light Rain and Freezing Wind  
by drumlinepaco  
  
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[A/N]: I am not in pit, but my friends Cara and Nathan are, and this is based on what they told me. I was on the field in battery, having a blast...but here's their side.  
  
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Cara's hands were in her dark green jacket. She wished that she was a member  
of the brass section, just for this moment, so that she would be wearing  
at least light gloves to guard her mallet hands from the bitter cold. She  
gripped the edge of her marimba and pushed it a few more feet. The band was  
slowly entering the outdoor stadium for the Texas State Competition. Being  
from south Texas, Cara was not used to this weather. 'It must be below 20  
out here, not to mention the stupid wind,' she thought to herself. 'Oh well,  
I guess it doesn't matter. My hands will be warmed up in a few minutes.'  
  
They finally made it to the field. They soon saw that not only was it an  
outdoor stadium in cold, wet weather: it was an old grass stadium as well.  
Grass that had been marched on and fallen on several times that day already,  
and you could hardly see the green of the grass, because the dead grass and  
mud was overtaking it. It was positively disgusting. Cara silently thanked  
the Lord that she did not have to march. She turned her marimba to face the  
crowd, and checked last details. 'Is the suspended cymbal in place? Are all  
my mallets lined up correctly in the bag? Are there no loose keys?' Finally,  
she decided that all was ready, and stood in set position, hands behind the  
marimba, mallets crossed. The rest of the pit set up fairly slowly, as all  
of their hands were beginning to lose feeling. They all hoped that their  
hands would warm up by the time they finished the opener.  
  
The drum major lifted her hands and the pit members readied themselves to  
count several measures before they placed their first run. The first forty-eight  
counts of the show was a silent rifle feature, as the black props were moved  
out of the way to reveal one line of colour guard after another. A suspended  
cymbal roll and a couple of mallet notes were coming up in ten counts...eight  
counts...four counts...two three four...  
  
A small whine escaped Cara's throat when she realized how hard it was to  
move her mallets to do her suspended cymbal roll. She forced herself to use  
technique instead of just banging the cymbal, and prepared herself for the  
sixteenth note run coming up. The woodwinds went first, and then the pit,  
and...Cara's fingers were frozen. None of the right notes were hit on the  
run, making it sound like a garbled mess. 'Maybe the judges will think we  
did that on purpose,' Cara hoped to herself, although she knew that would  
never happen.  
  
As the opener drew to a close, everyone in the pit had completely given  
up using any kind of technique whatsoever. They held the mallets in any way  
they could to keep them from falling out of their frozen hands. The final  
cymbal crash lingered longer than it was supposed to, for only some of the  
pit could handle grabbing the icy cymbals to choke the crash. The props changed  
to silver and thus the music transitioned into the ballad...this song would  
not be so difficult right? At least not for the marimbas. Cara glanced over  
at the vibraphone captain, whos hair was a complete mess. Nathan's normally  
jetblack hair, gelled down to its death, was now brown, and gaining volume  
by the second. He was also holding his mallets in a way that had never been  
taught, and was clearly miserable when it came to playing any form of notes  
on his instrument. He glanced at Cara, who mouthed the words 'My hands are  
frozen!' at him, to which he nodded, and mouthed 'Me too'.  
  
The props were now lined up, and changed to a red, yellow, and blue geometrical  
pattern to surprise the audience. The pit captain played the beginning tambourine  
part to enter the drum solo, and Cara began to panic. The very first run  
of the drum solo belonged to her, and her only, as a marimba solo. It was  
only 12 counts long until the other marimbas came in, but it was long enough  
for Cara to start crying. Nathan and Cara glanced at each other one last  
time, sadness filling them both, and Cara squeezed her marimba mallets as  
tight as psosible, and attempted her solo.  
  
Bb A Bb A Bb A...blah. The only notes that escaped the marimba for those  
counts. Cara could hardly play with the other five marimba players as they  
came in, as she was so close to tears. 'I can't play anything!' she screamed  
in her mind. The marimba part ended, and the melody was handed to the vibraphones,  
who did an equally painful job of pulling it off. Nathan already had tears  
streaming down his face, and the sight of her fellow pit members bawling  
made tears escape Cara's eyes as well. She wanted nothing more than to end  
the show right there, and hide forever. The brass and woodwinds re-entered  
the music, and the drum solo ended. The closer...finally.  
  
The title Tournaments did not seem to fit the current mood in the pit at  
all, for none of them felt the desire to fight any longer, for they had been  
defeated...utterly defeated by the piercing cold around them. All hope for  
making finals, or even placement, was lost. There was not a soul in pit who  
was not either crying or holding back tears. The mood was slightly lifted  
as a line of guard girls ran in front of the pit, all falling as they went.  
Little did they know that behind them, the marching drumline was having a  
blast with the weather, and because they dug into the ground, almost no one  
fell. A sousaphone, however, did fall onto another sousaphone, bending the  
tuba bell into an almost perfect taco shape, and nearly crushing the sousaphonist.  
He would later earn the nickname "Taco Bell", and the story would be told  
across the band community for the rest of the season.  
  
The props changed to a rainbow of colours and the guard had changed their  
outfits in this way as well. While the band was partying and laughing about  
Taco Bell, the pit was suffering a horrible, horrible failure (or so they  
thought). Cara felt as if she would never stop crying, and Nathan the same.  
They played the last rhythm of the show, and as the brass popped their horns  
down, down went the shoulders of half the pit, exploding in devastated tears.  
  
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	2. Laughter and Muddy Crabstepping

Of Light Wind and Freezing Rain Ch. 2  
  
Battery POV  
  
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[A/N]: Well I wrote about the pit's POV, and I thought I'd turn it around and write about state from the POV of the battery on the field...  
  
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The band was standing in a long 350-member line, entering Baylor's grass stadium. The sky was a misty grey, and it was colder than any day they had experienced all year. It was lightly raining, so everyone band member kept his or her plume underneath their band jacket to keep it from becoming too damaged before their outdoor performance. The drummer on bass drum two was shivering like no other, wishing the show would be over and they could get back on the nice, warm charter buses, with a hot pack in her hands, watching BOA on the screens above...  
  
Nina snapped back to reality when she realized her shoelace was untied. She wouldn't have worried about it, but because there was going to be so much mud on the field, she was afraid she'd lose it and be marching in socks. She didn't have time to reach down and tie it, and the band members around her were now putting their black plumes in their shakos, meaning that they were just about to go on. She asked a bari sax to tie it for her...and moments later they marched quickly into the stadium.  
  
The field. It looked like a warzone. There was more mud than grass, and there were plume feathers all over the place, as if band members had been slaughtered and the feathers were all that remaining. There were long streaks in the mud where the marchers had fallen and slid, and judging by the looks of it, slid into each other. Footprints were everywhere: The heels of previous bands' shoes had gone almost three or four inches into the ground on every step. The stands were nearly empty, and they were all collected towards the centre, everyone holding umbrellas. 'What miserable conditions...' Nina thought. 'I guess we're supposed to just...get out there and try not to fall.'  
  
The band stood in their opening set. The first 48 counts were silent, starting with one girl's rifle toss. Large, black props moved aside to reveal more rifle girls, and by the first fanfare, the guard, props, and band lined up in an enormous upside-down "V" shape. Mud was already coating the bassline's shoes almost completely over the toe because of the 16 counts of crab-stepping. Every time anyone took a step, they could feel the ground go 'squish, squish, squish' in tempo with the music. A smile crept onto Nina's face, and that of the whole drumline. While the woodwinds were having a hard time with their cold fingers, and the brass with their cold instruments, the drumline's hands felt just fine: their sticks were wooden, of course, or wrapped in white stick tape. At the first trombone gliss, one of the bass drummers dropped their "chikky stick" (used to make a loud "chik" sound on the rim). A clarinet nearly tripped over it, and laughter could be heard from all corners of the field.  
  
As the music transitioned into the ballad, the drumline and some of the guard hid behind the giant moving props, a silver sheet now covering the black one from the opener. The top two bass drummers looked at each other and immediately had to cover their mouths to keep from laughing.  
  
"The field is so GROSS!" Kasi exclaimed, a huge grin on her face, pointing to the mud that had collected on her shoes. Her pants were high enough off the ground so the mud didn't touch them, but the once reflective black shoes were now completely brown, and scattered with dying grass.  
  
Nina's shoes looked the same, and the poor guard girls were ready to throw away their shoes. The second bass drummer laughed again at the stupidness of it all. "I've never had this much fun in my whole life!"  
  
The battery had forgotten about the cold weather, and had completely given up hope of marching a clean show (no pun intended). As the drum solo began, they listened for the pit, and counted to their step-off. A new sheet of red, yellow, and blue geometrical shapes fell over the props' silver lining from the ballad. It was almost to the marimba solo that began this transition piece, entitled Piano Concerto. The first trill was played, B flat, A, B flat, A, B flat, A, B natural...wait...where was the rest?! The other five marimba players came in, and though they were all trying as hard as they could, the Concerto sounded like they had learned it yesterday.  
  
'I bet we sound horrible too,' Nina thought. She shrugged the thought away, however, as the drumline re-entered the show, leaving the props behind her. The drumline made a line (or maybe it was freeform at this point) and Nina saw the audience. They all had umbrellas! 'What pansies!' Nina thought, as she glanced over to the pit to see the vibraphones. Right in front of the first vibraphone, Nathan, a rifle girl flipped backwards, and then another, and then another, just like a domino effect. Suddenly, she heard someone crack up laughing backfield, but didn't have time to look.  
  
The closer! Finally!  
  
The music was so uplifting right from the first note, that the battery had almost forgotten about the horrible field conditions, the disgusting weather, the hideous sky, the numerous stick drops, the many colour guard members falling...and they just marched the show. Nina ignored how her shoes sunk into the ground with every step, and concentrated on dressing to those around her and getting every note right. The prop crew dropped a final sheet, a spectrum of colour from one prop to the next, and the band formed insane antpiles and pinwheels. The last note was blared loude than it ever had been before, and the bass drum visual, lifting their mallets above their head and slashing them back down to stand by, was more vigorous than Nina or any of the other bass drums had ever remembered it. Their faces were covered with tears from laughing so hard by the time they left the field, and that's when they saw it...  
  
...one tuba, in the centre of them all, was crushed to the shape of a taco, its owner grinning like he had just won the lottery.  
  
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[A/N]: GAWD STATE WAS AWESOME!!! Third chapter will be about our placement, and the placement of our rivals...and four people trying really hard to share one umbrella ^^;  
  
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	3. Placements and a Crowded Umbrella

Of Light Rain and Freezing Wind  
  
Ch 3  
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[A/N]: I MISS MARCHING SEASON!!!!!!!!  
  
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The band left the stadium in tears. Some were crying about the many times they had fallen, but most had been laughing so hard that they could hardly speak. The owner of the crushed tuba was getting more attention than ever before. Most people in the band had hardly acknowledged his existence, for he was a freshman. Now, he was famous.  
  
"That's so awesome!"  
  
"Let me take a picture!"  
  
"It's the taco bell!"  
  
Bass drum four had dropped his 'chicky stick' at some point during the show, and thus was mildly upset, but the rest of the battery was far too amused at the situation to let one fallen stick sour their great mood. The colour guard girls were all absolutely covered with mud. A flag girl ran up to Nina, a huge grin on her face.  
  
"Nina!" Nina turned to head to see Kelly, spinning around once to show off her once purple dress (the outfits worn at the end of the show were a spectrum of red through purple) that was now brown, with specks of grass and plume feathers everywhere. She had a smear of mud across her left cheek and all down her arms. Even her purple flag was like this. Kelly just laughed.  
  
"I fell down!" she giggled again and skipped away. The same thing happened with a sophomore on rifle and a freshman in a dress that used to be tangerine orange, but now..you know the drill. The band loaded the truck to the best of their ability, but poor tuba Ryan had a very hard time getting his "taco bell" back into the original sousaphone case. Mud coated everyone's shoes, and although 90% of the colour guard fell down, only a handful of actual band members had fallen, and none in the battery, thank goodness. The truck, now full of instruments and disgusting mud-covered guard equipment and props, was closed up for now. It began to rain harder now, and The Woodlands band had to scramble through mud that was gross enough in the first place, but was now becoming a floodway as well.  
  
"TO THE BUSES!" cried Mr. J's voice, over everyone else's. "GET TO THE BUSES!"  
  
Nina was searching the area for the pit. They hadn't been around while she had loaded the truck, for they had found their way there before everyone and were already back on the buses, drying off, and re-saran-wrapping their mallets in case they had to play in finals in a couple hours (which was highly doubtful, in their opinion), and had changed out of their badn uniforms back into jeans and a band shirt. The quiet they had been enjoying (or rather, taking refuge in), was destroyed as the rest of the battery and other randomly selected people joined them on the "drumline bus", Bus 5, claimed at the beginning of the season. The uproar of laughter disturbed the members of the pit. Nina found her way to the middle back of the bus, her and Nathan's seat, and immediately began changing, shoes first, which had been rinsed off (somewhat) in a puddle outside.  
  
She laughed and shook Nathan's shoulder lightly, "Was that a party or what?! Oh my gawd, I've never had that much fun in my entire LIFE! I mean, the guard was going everywhere and.." she noticed that Nat was not smiling, "..Nat? You okay?"  
  
Nat looked up at her with a look of despair in his eyes. "I..couldn't play anything. My hands.." he looked down at them. They were bright pink. He reached up and touched Nina's cheek.  
  
"Holy crap!" she jerked back away from his hand. "It's like ice.."  
  
Nathan lifted his head to look towards the front of the bus. "Poor Cara though...I felt so bad for her. She was crying almost the entire time. Well...I was too. We all were."  
  
"Oh, Nathan, I'm so sorry," Nina said, sitting down in one of the purple charter bus's seats. Her hyperactive streak had been immediately sobered. "I didn't mean to make you feel worse with my running mouth there...I actually had fun. I had no idea you guys were having such a hard time."  
  
He turned to face her, shocked. "Did you HEAR the Piano Concerto?!"  
  
"..barely..there was too much wind. What happened?"  
  
"We couldn't use technique at all. I gave up with technique about halfway through the opener.." and he began to tell the story of the pit's horrid experience: Cara's solo, Nathan's ballad notes, the extended crashes..everything. Right near the end of his tale, Mr. J walked onto the bus. All talking ceased.  
  
He was silent for a few moments to gather suspension. "The field is too muddy to march finals. They're announcing placements NOW. Get off the bus and go straight to the stadium."  
  
Nina rolled her eyes. 'Now that we just got back ON the bus.' "Nat, don't you have an umbrella?"  
  
Nathan reached under his seat and grabbed one [A/N: Technically, I don't remember who had the umbrella, but there was one, and so we're gonna pretend it was Nathan's..]. They whole marching band filed off charter buses 1-6, happy that the rain had ceased a bit. It was still sprinking, but not nearly as hard as it had been on the way to the us and for the few minutes waiting on it. Nathan's mood had been lifted for the moment, as he was not easily depressed by such things. They caught sight of Cara. She smiled and tried to fit her way under the umbrella along with Nat and Nina. Needless to say, it was rather cramped, but at the moment, it didn't really matter.  
  
It was a maze getting up to the top of the stadium to hear placements. The bands were not in block formations on the field as usual. Only the drum majors stood on the field, facing the audience with pride, hoping with all their heart that they place in top 5. The Woodlands High School had pretty much given up hope of that, but they would be happy enough just to defeat Reagan. As the three drummers weaved through the people around them, also trying to get into the stadium, they couldn't distantly hear, "And in 7th place.."  
  
"They're almost done! Oh no, that means they've probably already announced us," Nina said, her determination to get to the stadium wiltered. "What a waste."  
  
Cara looked up. They were almost there. "There are still some Woodlands people up there. We may as well join the crowd."  
  
"Yeah," Nathan said, sighing. He knew they had already been announced. They were almost announcing top 5, and with the pit's performance, he would have been surprised if they had even made one of the ten spots they were announcing.  
  
"In sixth place, The Haltom High School Marching Band from Haltom City, Texas!" boomed the voice of the UIL announcer over the loudspeakers as Nina, Nathan, and Cara reached the top of the stadium. They didn't even bother to find seats; they just tried to see the scoreboard that listed the high school band being announced and its directors.  
  
Nina turned to a random person from another band beside her. "Did they already announce The Woodlands High School?" she asked.  
  
The trumpet player, still holding his trumpet, looked up as if trying to remember something. "Uh..er..I don't remember them saying it, but then, I wasn't really listening for it."  
  
"And in fifth place.." the UIL announcer began, leaving a short silence for suspence. Nina sighed, hoping they would just get it over with so they could go home.  
  
"..The Woodlands High School Marching Band from The Woodlands, Texas!"  
  
Nina's, Cara's, and Nathan's jaws all dropped along with the rest of the band's. Moments later, once the shock had passed, the family known as the marching band exploded with cheers and excitement in unison, a final fanfare and conclusion of the pit's horrible suffering, the battery's dirty runs, the band's unstraight lines, the prop's muddy wheels, and the guard's drops and falls.  
  
The first time they had ever been to State, they made fifth place.  
  
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[A/N]: Aw man. I miss marching season. I think I'm gonna cry. *goes off in a corner to mourn the end of marching season*  
  
Review, it will make me happy..  
  
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